


The 2004 Christmas Ficlets

by mad_martha



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Angst, Christmas, Domestic, Drama, Humour, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-03
Updated: 2011-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-23 09:37:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mad_martha/pseuds/mad_martha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Several ficlets from various of my universes, originally posted on Chistmas Day 2004.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The 2004 Christmas Ficlets

_From "Broomflight":_

"Oi, Moony, give us a hand with these, will you?" Sirius called from his post by the half-dressed tree, where he, James and Peter were charming baubles into place.

"You can manage by yourselves," Remus said, amused and unmoving. "I'm doing the important job – minding the baby."

"Encouraging his weird fetish with your fingers, you mean," James said, tossing a grin over his shoulder.

"You just know what you like, don't you, Harry?" Remus said to the baby. "It's got a more interesting texture than the teething ring."

Harry gazed back at him, wide-eyed and solemn, but didn't pause in the all-important task of finding the right spot on his mostly-bare gums to chew his godfather's index finger with. He'd petulantly tossed the silver and coral teething ring aside earlier; it was somewhere under the sofa now. Fingers were apparently more soothing against his sore gums and he was gripping Remus's hand tightly between his own, just in case the coveted finger was in danger of being removed.

"Mind he doesn't get you with that single tooth," Peter warned ruefully, and he held up a finger with a sticking plaster on it. "He gave me a good chomp with it earlier. Sharp!"

Remus grinned at him. "Don't worry – I know where it is and I'm steering clear of it!"

Lily appeared, carrying a fresh tray of gingerbread biscuits with ribbon loops for the tree, and set it down on the table. She sat down next to him, grabbed a soft cloth from a stack on the arm of the sofa and began to mop his clothes.

"Oh Remus, he's dribbling all over you …."

"It's fine, really!" He smiled at her. "Makes a nice change from Padfoot's slobber."

"Hey!" Sirius whipped around indignantly and lost control of the fairy he was trying to charm to the top of the tree. She tumbled to the floor in an untidy mess of gauzy frock and spangled wings. "Rats! – Oh, sorry Pete – I'm going to put a Sticking Charm on her knickers in a minute …."

"Sounds about right for you," James said, amused. He picked the fairy up and straightened her dress. "Sticking her knickers on …."

 

 _From "Moste Potente Mischief":_

"…And I fail to see how felling a perfectly healthy fir tree, dragging its dying carcass into the house and dressing it up like one of the Emperor Nero's mistresses can be seen as remotely festive …."

"Bah humbug," Hermione Snape murmured, unconcerned, as she helped the House-elves to position the tree. "Your son and daughter are looking forward to dressing the tree, Severus. It's a tradition."

"It's not a tradition _I_ have imparted to them," her husband retorted witheringly.

"No, left to you we'd all spend Christmas picking coal out of our stockings. You may choose to bury yourself in your workroom for the larger part of Christmas, but you're not going to deny Horatio and Isobella a little fun."

"It seems to have escaped your notice that Horatio and Isobella are perfectly capable of creating their own "fun" – usually with results that leave me paying fines to the Ministry," Snape pointed out sourly.

"Precisely. How much trouble can the pair of them get into by dressing a tree and ripping open a pile of presents instead?"

They looked at each other. In spite of his attempts to control it, the corner of Snape's mouth twitched and was met with a similar response from his wife.

Hermione sighed ruefully. "I'll be supervising them."

"Upon your head be it," he retorted, now openly amused. "Undoubtedly quite literally. However, should the three of you survive, you may inform the Spawn of Cerberus that they may join me in my workroom after tea to receive their gifts." He turned to leave the hall.

"Oh – don't I get a present too?" Hermione asked in mock disappointment.

Snape turned back briefly, a wicked spark in his dark, secretive eyes, and Hermione hid a grin.

 

 _From "The Lodger":_

"Explain to me again why _I_ get to be the one daubed in chocolate sauce and edible glitter?" Draco asked dryly, watching Harry's fingers as they dabbled across his chest.

"Chocolate sauce doesn't go with chest hair," Harry told him, amused, and he indicated his own chest with its dark curls that led so intriguingly down inside the waistband of his boxers.

"I see. And what happens when you've finished this work of art?"

Harry paused and looked at him incredulously. After a moment, the corner of Draco's mouth turned up in a wicked grin.

"Really, Harry, you're so easy to get a rise out of."

Harry's brow went up. "Funny, because from where I'm sitting it looks like you're the one with the "rise", Draco."

"Very funny, Potter. Now _do_ get on with it."

"You're very impatient for someone who isn't going anywhere." And Harry glanced up at the head of the bed where Draco's hands were firmly bound to the rails of the bedstead with their old school ties.

Draco gave him look from under heavily-lidded eyes. "Precisely. I'm impatient to know where you plan to go with this …."

 

 _From "Auror":_

"Blimey! I go out for an afternoon and you turn the house into a grotto," an amused voice said.

Harry glanced quickly around and felt himself flushing even as he grinned. "Sorry – I just wanted to decorate properly. It's our first Christmas in this house …."

"Mate – I'm teasing you," Ron told him, and he grinned too. "It looks brilliant!

And the living room did, with its swags of holly and mistletoe around the walls and a huge tree in a corner by the windows. The tree was mostly dressed already, with light-catching glass ornaments and tiny brass bells, but Harry held out one last piece to his lover.

"You're taller than me – " a severe understatement " – put the angel on top for me?"

Ron took the little floss and crystal angel and very carefully hung it from the topmost spike.

"That okay?"

"It's perfect. _Luminosa!"_

And suddenly a thousand tiny hidden spell-lights lit up all over the tree, making the glass ornaments scintillate. Harry regarded it with satisfaction and waved his wand at the room lights.

 _"Nox."_

The room went dark, leaving just the lights in the tree twinkling. The two wizards took a step back, gazing at it in silence for a moment or two.

"It's perfect," Ron said finally, and he slid an arm around Harry's middle, pulling him back against him. He nuzzled his lover's neck lightly while he slipped a hand up under Harry's sweatshirt to find the bare skin underneath.

"Merry Christmas, love."

Harry smiled, deeply content. "Merry Christmas, Ron love."

 

 _From "Coming Home":_

"So," Harry Potter said, as he leaned against the doorpost of Ron Weasley's workshop. "My lad's off with his grandparents, spending Christmas in the Austrian Alps, this year."

"Yeah? That'll be nice for him," Ron observed, as he set a new length of wood in his lathe.

"Forget Sirius. It'll make a nice change for _me_." Harry watched him for a moment, then said casually, "Don't I remember you saying Gareth's going to Romania with your parents, to visit Charlie and his boyfriend?"

"That's right. They must be nuts, because they're taking six of the kids." Ron chuckled. "That's probably why they want Gareth to go – the kids all look up to him."

"And the twins are staying at Hogwarts to revise for their mock NEWTS?"

"Yep."

"Good," Harry said, and for the first time Ron looked up, a little startled at the decisive note in his friend's voice. Harry pulled one hand out from behind his back and in it were two long slips of printed blue parchment. "That means you're free to come with me to Venice, then."

And he grinned at the sudden lightening of his lover's expression.

 

 _From "Longbottom's Progress":_

"You gave her _what?"_ Neville whispered, appalled. "Seamus, this is my _grandmother!_ "

"Relax, will you?" Seamus was amused. "You've been like nuts on a hot skillet since we set out this morning and I'm sure I don't know why!"

Neville's eyes nearly popped out. "Look around you!" he whispered agitatedly. "This is my family! How can you be having a good time?"

The Irishman grinned. "Ah, they're not so bad. Now you'd have something to complain about if you had to take tea with my Great-Aunt Eithne in Dundalk. Sure, they're a little bit stiff in places, and your Uncle Algie's … well. Maybe he doesn't get out much. But your Gran's a game old pullet! Anyone who can tie up a Malfoy in a Tickling Hex can't be half bad. Besides, if she wears a stuffed vulture on her hat, she'll love a pair of flashing antlers!"

Neville decided it would be simpler just to find a quiet corner and faint.

 

 _From "Turning Back The Clock":_

"I'm not going to argue with you at Christmas," Harry said tiredly, pulling off his scarf and coat.

"Well, it's not like I _want_ a row," Ron muttered. "It's not my fault Mum can't take a hint, after all."

"Did I say it was?"

"No, but you were thinking it."

"For the last time, I am _not_ blaming you! I just … oh, forget it."

"No, say it!" Ron snapped, losing his temper. "Just get it off your chest, will you? I know what'll happen if you don't."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry demanded.

"Nothing."

Ron went into the kitchen and took a butterbeer out of the fridge. It was tempting to shut the door again and let Harry get his own, but he controlled the impulse and took a second bottle out. He turned to give it to his partner, only for Harry to snatch both bottles out of his hands, slap them back into the door-rack of the fridge and slam the door.

"You tell me what you meant by that," Harry said, his green eyes sparking dangerously behind his spectacles.

"Fine! Say what's on your mind, Potter, because I don't feel like dealing with it six months down the road, when you've let it all fester. Okay?"

That was unjust, and Ron knew it even as he said it. Harry didn't hold grudges, or at least he didn't hold grudges that lasted months at a time. That was something only Ron himself did. But when the redhead looked at him, he realised that he'd said something far more hurtful.

 _"Potter,"_ Harry said in a bare whisper. He let out a short, breathy, bitter laugh. _"Potter."_

"Shit. Harry, I didn't …."

But Harry had already turned away, walking back into the living room of their little flat.

 _Shit, shit, shit. And fuck_. How the hell to fix this? And why the hell did they keep doing this to each other anyway? It seemed like no sooner did they sort out one row, than another one surged up to take its place. Ron would have sworn this was the most self-destructive relationship he'd ever heard of … if he hadn't watched Hermione's relationship with Seamus Finnigan.

Maybe … it was a long shot, but maybe if he got Harry's present from its hiding place and apologised again ….

Ron hurried through the living room, feeling a lurch in his stomach when Harry ignored him, and went into the bedroom.

And stopped, stunned.

The plainly furnished room with its creaky metal bedstead, battered bedside tables and faded rugs was gone. In its place was a room with a thick pile carpet, an enormous mahogany four-poster bed, rich velvet hangings, soft cotton/silk blend sheets covered with the thick hand-knitted bedspread from his old bed, and two new mahogany nightstands. And as Ron stood there, open-mouthed, rose petals _(Rose petals? Where did he get those as this time of year?)_ cascaded gently down from the ceiling. There was a soft _pop!_ as a bottle of champagne on one nightstand de-corked itself and began to pour into two champagne flutes.

Ron turned back to the living to face Harry, still speechless.

Harry's mouth quirked wryly. "Yeah. There was a really good reason why I didn't want to go to your Mum's before we got home this morning. I've been fixing this up for two days while you were in Caithness."

 _"Harry …!"_

Harry waved him off. "It's okay."

Ron's shoulders sagged. "It's not okay. I … I'm a selfish prat."

"Nah, you're not. Of course you want to be with your family at Christmas."

"I want to be with _you_ more." And that was the honest truth. If his mother's howler hadn't reached him before Harry had, they wouldn't be having this quarrel now. Ron shifted from one foot to the other uncertainly. "So …."

"So," Harry replied quietly.

"I reckon the champagne's still chilled," Ron suggested.

Some of the tension slid out of Harry's face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. And you haven't had your present from me yet, have you?"

"No, I s'pose I haven't," Harry agreed, and a tiny smile quirked the corner of his lips.

Ron breathed more easily. _Thank you God._

 _From "Checkmate":_

"Potter, you do know your family set-up is weird, don't you?" Ron Weasley said dryly.

They were sitting beneath the enormous Christmas tree with Harry Potter's new chess set between them, supposedly having a game, although Ron's mind wasn't entirely on the board – it was at least partially at the other end of the long drawing room, where the adults were sitting around, laughing and talking.

"What's weird about it?" Harry asked, frowning.

Ron's nose screwed up a little. "What's not? Your mum and dad aren't married – "

"So? Neither are loads of other people's."

"Yeah, but loads of other people's dads don't live in a half-ruined abbey with three of their best mates, while their mum travels around all over the place doing stuff she doesn't tell anyone about." He risked a glance at the adults. "And I don't know if you've realised this, but I think two of your dad's mates are gay."

"Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus have been together forever," Harry said calmly. "That's not weird at all. And I thought you might think the abbey was fun. It's more interesting than the last place we stayed in. That was Uncle Sirius's parents' house and it was pretty creepy."

"Why do you move around so much anyway?"

"It's something to do with Dad's work. They can't tell me much about it while I'm at school."

"Sounds fishy to me."

Harry grinned at him. "Everything sounds fishy to you. You're suspicious by nature. And you're in check, by the way."

Ron swore.


End file.
